A Series of Dreams
by GoldenGirl
Summary: Takes place right after the S2 finale. Chuck and Sarah are in a weird place. Chuck's got some identity issues. And there's dreams.
1. Prologue

Title: A Series of Dreams

Spoilers: Till the season 2 finale!

Pairing: Chuck/Sarah!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything!

A/N: This was going to be a short counter-fic to "Sarah's Firsts" but it's morphed into something longer than that (which has almost nothing to do with that fic at all). For those who read that fic this first part borrows a difference version of a scene from "Sarah's Firsts." More to come soon and thanks for reading!

\\\

This is a dream:

Chuck's awake in bed and Sarah's in the room too, but she's standing by the window, looking out. He watches her figure, her naked back, and though he's not touching it he can feel her skin. She is soft. The sensation overwhelms him.

This is a dream and Chuck never wants to wake up.

\\\

It's been a couple of hours since Chuck downloaded the new intersect; since Bryce died; since everything changed, again.

He's not sure how long she's been sitting on the beach but he's glad to have finally found her. He sits down beside her wordlessly, more to think of what to say than because of some sense of respect for her space. He wants to talk about the new intersect, about Bryce, about how he feels like a complete tool that just kissed his future goodbye for a reason he's not sure he fully understands yet, but he can't quite seem to get the words out. He looks around for a trigger to get him going when his eyes find the bottle peeking out from beside her.

"Are there messages in that bottle?"

She lifts it up and hands it to him. "It's wine."

"_Pinot Nero_," Chuck reads. "Didn't know you were a wine person. Most people go for the hard liquor when they want to drown their sorrows."

Almost as soon as he says this he realizes how insensitive he sounds. While he has to be reminded that Bryce just died it looks like she's wallowing in it. Bryce was as equally important to her as he was to Chuck. No, more.

"It's my favorite," she sighs, and he's relieved that she doesn't respond negatively.

"Good to know."

He was never much of a wine guy. Unlike Bryce, who probably drank lots of fancy wines in his lifetime. Chuck wonders if Sarah drank a lot of wine with him.

'Course she did. Chuck holds up the bottle, silently toasting Bryce's ghost, wherever he may be, before taking a swig and passing the drink back to her.

"I'm sorry about Bryce," Chuck says. He reaches for her hand, covers it with his own. "I'm here if you want to talk about it."

He knows Sarah enough to know that she _won't_ talk to him about it—not any time soon, anyway. But he also knows that letting him sit in on her silence speaks volumes. And he's perfectly prepared to sit beside her, listening to the waves crash and just _being_ with her, but that plan is prematurely cut short by the look on her face. Her forehead crinkles as she looks down at his hand on top of hers, and he wishes he could more easily read her because she's suddenly upset and he doesn't know why.

"I can't do this," she says.

His confusion grows by the instant. "Is this about Bryce? I know he meant a lot to you…"

She gets up without preamble and turns away from him. "Hey," Chuck whispers, wanting- demanding that she stay. It's only after he gets up too and grabs her elbow that he sees the tears in her eyes, all too ready to spill.

"Hey," he says again, trying for soothing but still coming out lost. "Talk to me."

"How could you do it?" she asks.

The intersect. That's what she's upset about. He doesn't know how to answer her. All he knows is talks about being a hero, stepping up to the plate, finishing what was started, being accountable. And they're all really stupid reasons.

"I had to."

Sarah shakes her head and doesn't look at him.

When she says, "How could you do that to us?" he almost can't hear her.

But he does. Chuck knows what she means; that a day ago they had the promise of a real relationship. It's the most affirming thing she's ever said about them being together. And now that's over.

But she's not the only one who gets to be angry.

"So what?" he snaps, and she looks too surprised to react. "I'm so sick of _pining_, Sarah. Even if I hadn't done it- even if I didn't have this thing in my head- you still would've gone with Bryce. You would've been halfway across the world, on to your next mission. So don't act as if we could've had something. Things weren't going to change.

"Things weren't going to change because you're too afraid to."

She walks away from him then. He never does get to watch her cry.

\\\

tbc


	2. fight

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Part 2:

\\\

Sometime after that night Chuck has this dream. He's in a dark alleyway and there are a slew of bad guys surrounding him like right out of a comic book. Sarah's there, too, dressed as Laurie Jupiter and when she looks at him it's with a knowing smile. Chuck's not going to run and Sarah's not going to protect; they're going to take these bad guys on. They're going to fight together.

He always wanted to fight alongside Sarah and now with this new intersect he can. This is one of the best feelings Chuck's ever had.

But when they start fighting Chuck realizes that he isn't Night Owl, as the scene in _Watchmen_ goes. He's not even Dr. Manhattan, glowing blue and all-powerful. He's Shaggy from _Scooby Doo_.

He's not the right guy and it's all wrong.

This is when Chuck wakes up.

\\\

They're training in a room with blue mats on the floor when Chuck attempts a half-hearted kick. Sarah dodges it easily.

Casey, standing against the wall where he might as well be wearing a ref's uniform, rolls his eyes and scoffs: "My grandmother kicks better than that!"

"Well maybe you can ask her to come join us cuz I don't think I'm any closer to adding _Norris_ to my name."

They've been at this for a couple of hours; first training, then fighting, and Chuck can't tell if he's making any progress but he's enduring it all because at least it gets him closer to Sarah. Ever since their tiff on the beach they've been incommunicado. He wants to apologize but all he's been able to do is pose really bad roundhouse kicks in her general direction.

"Stop holding back," Sarah says. She's in a white tank with her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. There's a bead of sweat falling down her collarbone. Sometimes he gets so distracted by her.

"Have we just met?" Chuck asks, out of breath. "I _don't know how_ to kick. I'm not holding back!"

"Flash!" Casey barks. "I thought you knew kung fu, Bartowski."

"I can't just force it, Casey. Something has to trigger it. I don't see why I can't just fight you. A flash would probably come a lot easier that way."

"That's exactly the point," Casey says. "You have to flash even when you don't think you can."

Casey stands there akimbo, as if this is Karate Kid and Chuck's just a few secrets shy of learning the True Meaning of the The Flash. But the truth is Casey doesn't know anything about it. He doesn't know what's going on in Chuck's head. Chuck hardly knows it himself. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, the tape around his knuckles collecting the sweat. This would be a good time to throw in the towel.

But Sarah is still in her fighting stance.

"Come on," she prompts.

She's staring at him and Chuck's not sure he likes the look in her eye. She's not ready to finish this spar.

"I'm not going to hit you," he tells her.

Sarah hears him, but even so she still comes for him, sweeping his leg. He lands smack on his back, and the moans that escape his lips do nothing to help his kung fu cred. He gets up and it's not long before the fighting starts again, Sarah throwing a punch, and then another. He dodges them both until, finally, she lands one, socking him in the jaw.

They're both thrown for a minute- even Casey's eyes flash and Chuck thinks he hears a satisfied grunt coming from the big guy's direction. But almost instantly Sarah's back on her game and she punches again—backhand across his cheek. Chuck recoils.

He tastes something red on his mouth where his teeth nicked his lip.

Sarah's eyes are hungry and Chuck is struck with the realization that this isn't just a fun training montage of a day anymore. It never was.

"Hit me," she says. He's confused and breathing heavy but she's never seemed more certain. "Fight back!"

The flash comes out of nowhere. It's like he's suddenly configured with a particular set of skills, not unlike kung fu, and it's almost in a blur that he takes action, keenly aware of the fact that his fist is moving with such quick precision and force; 1-2-3, like pounding on a punching bag.

He's out of the flash just as soon as he came by it, with Casey's firm grasp tight around his shoulder. "That's enough," he says.

He's back to being Chuck, the guy who doesn't know how to fight. Except for the fact that Sarah is on the floor, doubled over on her side and holding her stomach.

"Sarah," Chuck gasps.

He moves to help her but she moves just as quickly, helping herself up with a wince. She's already stripping the tape off her hands as she walks away from him, her shoulders rising and falling in time with hard breaths.

Chuck flexes his hand. His fist is starting to throb.

\\\


	3. Nerds

Thanks again to those who read and reviewed. Sometimes reviews can spark ideas in my head, plus, it's always interesting to see who's reading my story, so thanks so much! Here's the next part. Hopefully it's not too trippy.

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Sometimes Chuck won't realize he's in a dream for a long while, but this time he knows right away, or at least, he suspects something's amiss, because he's wearing a tuxedo. And Chuck doesn't just wear tuxedos.

Unless he's on a mission.

"Am I on a mission?"

Sarah snorts. "Uh, no? We're in your room."

And so they are. Sarah's sitting on the edge of Chuck's bed clutching a joystick. Her hand moves feverishly over it and she puts her whole body into it, her face set in intense concentration on the video game playing on Chuck's TV.

On the screen, the irritatingly slow, pixilated ball of Pong lingers, taking forever to move anywhere.

"Why are you playing that game?"

Sarah looks at him, black-rimmed lenses frame her confused eyes. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No," Chuck says slowly, shaking his head. Nothing is very obvious at the moment. Certainly not why Sarah's wearing a tee with "Spock is my Homeboy" stenciled on the front. But he chooses to just go with it.

"Uh, Sarah? I wanted to apologize to you. Our relationship—or whatever you wanna call it—seems to be getting progressively worse. Can we just go back to how it used to be? You the badass agent with no attachments, me the bumbling idiot squandering all his potential?"

"Things cannot go backwards, grasshopper," Sarah responds. "Only forwards."

"Huh?"

"Ok, remember in_ Y: The Last Man_ how Yorick really wants to find Beth but she's the farthest away possible from him and he has to go through all these major obstacles in order to find her so they can finally be together?"

"Yeah… Are you Beth?"

"No, I'm Ampersand," she says.

"The monkey?"

"The monkey."

"Always throwing your sh*t at me," Chuck surmises.

Sarah's teeth delightedly yank at the licorice stick in one of her hands. "Bingo."

Chuck nods. "Yes, this is definitely a dream."

"No sh*t, Sherlock," Sarah says. "In a minute I'm going to lose the game and then I'll take my clothes off and we're going to do it on your bed."

"'Do it'?"

"Sexual intercourse."

"We are?"

"This is like your wet dream, isn't it? Me playing video games. You like girls like that. You always have. Jill liked video games."

"How do you… how do you know that?"

"You liked that about her even before you met her."

Chuck sits on his bed, thinking about this. It's true. "But maybe I like you _because_ you don't like video games."

Sarah shimmies the joystick so hard it looks like it's about to break. On the screen the ball moves at a snail's pace. It misses her paddle completely. She loses. She huffs.

"Damn it, Chuck! You want things a certain way! You want to be a different man. So why can't I be a different woman? You wanted me to change. So now I'm changed. "

"What do you mean? I like who I am. I'm Chuck. I'm a reluctant spy. I fix computers. I'm a regular guy."

"Then why the hell are you wearing a tuxedo?"

He looks down. The tux fits him really well, if he does say so himself. Touching his hair he can feel that it is slicked back. He's even got French cufflinks. He looks amazing. He looks like a new man.

"I'm wearing a tux because…Charles Carmichael wears a tux."

Sarah nods.

"Because Bryce wears a tux."

She nods again.

"Because this is the man of _your_ dreams."

"Score one for the nerd!"

The voice is clearly Casey's, and Chuck suddenly notices that the colonel is standing outside Chuck's window, watching them. And he's wearing a baseball uniform.

"Hey!" Chuck says, insulted. "I'm not the only nerd in this dream."

Casey grunts and walks away, out of Chuck's sight and mind, and now all Chuck sees is Sarah taking her ironic tee-shirt off. Instead of being enthralled by the look of her in semi-undress, Chuck's more taken by the fist-sized bruise in the middle of her abdomen, right below her bra.

"Ouch," he says. "That looks like it hurt."

"It did. In 2005 I broke two ribs fighting Mongolian assassins, so, as you can imagine, it stung."

"I did that, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

Chuck crawls over to her on his knees until he's close enough to touch her. And he does, placing his fingertips over stomach. As much as he savors the feel of her skin he is repulsed that he is feeling the mark he left on her. There's no hiding it, even in his dream.

"Sarah, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Don't sweat it," she says. "I'm used to getting hurt."

The conversation ends when she leans forward to kiss him deeply, fingers in his hair, down his pressed shirt, working his belt buckle.

"We're going to do it now."

"'Do it'?" Chuck asks.

"Sexual intercourse."

Chuck nods and lets himself be enamored. He closes his eyes as Sarah kisses his neck. "I got season three of Battlestar Galactica. We can watch it afterwards."

Chuck moans.

\\\


	4. charades

Chuck bounces from one foot to the next, bow-legged, and making noises like an orangutan. And this is definitely not a dream.

He and Sarah are at Ellie and Awesome's house on an at-home double date. Now that Awesome knows about Chuck and Sarah—and who they really are (or aren't)—these double date nights are a moot point. Ellie, though, still needs to have the wool pulled over her eyes, so the couples meet, and things are still, as always, pretend. The irony of the whole thing is that on this particular night of couple-y fun, they're playing charades.

He keeps bouncing, banging on his chest now and scratching the top of his head with outstretched fingers.

"White Men Can't Jump?" Sarah asks, and smiles deviously. She knows very well what movie Chuck is trying to act out and is only refraining from answering to give him a hard time. Chuck knows this too. But he won't give up.

Even though he hadn't smoothed things over with Sarah yet, Chuck jumped at the chance of going out with her again: it got them in the same room together, at least, and that was a step in the right direction.

Chuck puts out all the stops. He goes over to the coat rack and pretends to be climbing on it, then pretends to catch imaginary planes that fly about his head, then he bangs on his chest again.

"Karate Kid?" Sarah says, shrugging. She takes a sip from her wine glass and arches her eyebrows as if to shrug, can't guess.

Chuck sighs.

Ellie's brows furrow, aware that something's amiss.

Awesome notices it all.

"Yeah, you're not the only one who's stumped, Sarah," the handsome doctor laughs nervously. "I can't guess either, Chuck!" He shoots Chuck a look that says, _what the hell is going on with you two?_

These date nights have become harder for Awesome to maintain, especially when Chuck and Sarah are on the outs. Chuck feels sorry for the guy. On the other hand, he feels some weight lifted off his shoulders now that he's not the only one stuck in the lie.

"Oh, time, sorry guys," Ellie says, picking up the plastic hourglass on the coffee table.

Chuck drops his hands to his sides, defeated. "It was King Kong."

"King Kong," Sarah says. "It was right on the tip of my tongue."

Chuck sits beside her on the couch. He'd growing more and more upset over what happened between them at the sparring match. He had hit her in the stomach-- socked her, hard—and he'd slowly gone from rationalizing that she probably got hit a lot in her line of work to thinking, _How could I have hit this girl that I love?_

Though she looks fine now, with no telltale sign of injury, his mind harkens back to the very vivid dream in which he'd seen a purpling bruise right in the center of her. He wonders if it actually exists beyond the perimeters of his imagination. It's a dreadful thought.

"Should we tally up the points?" Ellie asks.

"I believe that's five us, zero the Bartowski-Walker team. Sounds like we won, Hon."

"Oh, we did, didn't we? Well Chuck, Sarah, you played a great game, but…. the two of you can _suck it_." The glee in Ellie's voice is pure and unabashed, and Awesome matches it with in his grin. He presents her with palms upraised and they high-five each other, delighting in their own smugness.

"Wow, ok, when you two have kids make sure to never, ever play any games with them. Things might get ugly."

"Speaking of kids," Ellie says vaguely.

Chuck doesn't even let her finish. "Ellie, are you trying to tell us something?" He has to sneak a look at Sarah, who he knew was thinking the same thing he was, and would be just as excited. And even if they aren't on the best of terms at the moment, he is happy to see her share an expectant smile with him, her features set in excited anticipation.

"No, no," Ellie says, quick to put out the flames of possibilities sparking in Chuck's mind. "We're not going to start a family just yet. But we have been talking about _when_ we want to. We're thinking a year?"

"A year, wow! I get to be an uncle in a year. Plenty of time to prepare, I guess."

Awesome nods seriously. "Having kids is an important part of being an adult, little bro. But first you gotta lay the groundwork, _then_ plant the seeds."

Chuck can't help the way his eyebrows scrunch whenever Awesome uses euphemisms like that. "Thanks for the advice, Devon. "

"What about you, Sarah?" Ellie asks, a warm smile on her face. "How do you feel about kids?"

"Whoa there sis, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Sarah and I are ta—"

"Let me guess, taking things slow? Yeah, I know, Chuck. You've been taking it slow for three years."

Everyone else seems to freeze at this highly suspicious fact. Awesome tries to chime in with a helpful, "Is three years really that long?" but Ellie goes on, as if having not heard him.

"Believe it or not girls think about having kids whether they're in relationships or not. But I'm sure you guys have discussed it all already."

Chuck, as he is prone to do, laughs nervously, his glance dodging furtively from Ellie to Sarah. "Of course we have! Why, yes, that is… something couples talk about. " He tries to think of something to say-- something that will get Sarah out of answering the original question-- when she surprises him by doing just that.

"Chuck and I feel the same way about kids."

She's so good at lying Chuck's almost fooled by it sometimes. They have never, ever discussed children. Why would they?

"I'd love to have kids some day," she continues. "Not _too_ many but I always thought it'd be great to have a big family. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I only had one sibling growing up. I always wondered what it'd be like to have a brother. I know Chuck felt the same way sometimes."

She's looking at him to confirm this story, demanding him silently to corroborate and make it seem like it's something they talked about once and agreed on. It's hard to tell when Sarah's lying, but it's easy to know when she's telling the truth. Listening to her now, Chuck realizes he's getting something real about her. The real Sarah wants a big family. Just like he's always wanted.

"Yeah," he says, finally.

"Of course, Chuck really just wants a house full of fat babies."

"Ha ha, what?" He has no idea what Sarah's talking about but one look her way and he quickly realizes that this, much like her throwing the game, is about digging one into him.

"Remember?" she teases," you said all you really wanted were fat babies. Twins if you could manage it."

She knows he has to confirm it if he wants to keep up this charade of a united front. He gives her a look, but then turns to Ellie and Awesome and plasters on a smiles. With a straight face he says, "Yes, it is my dream to have a pair of fat baby twins."

\\\

That night Chuck dreams of blonde, curly-haired, blue-eyed babies. Really, really fat babies. But it's not too terrifying because Sarah is there, and she plays the role of his loving wife. He wouldn't mind staying in this dream and it's a testament to how much he misses her.

///

As soon as he wakes up he gets in his car and drives to her place. When she opens the door he says, "Can we please talk?"


	5. Apology

"Can we please talk?"

Sarah does nothing but watch him for a moment, then wordlessly opens the door wider, steps aside to let him walk through.

Chuck likes Sarah's apartment-slash-hotel room, though he doesn't get to spend as much time here as he would like. Nothing ever changes, and it's always very neat, but every time he comes he tries to look for something of hers; something with her own personal touch. The first time he saw that she had a framed picture of the two of them together his heart did little flips. He doesn't spot the frame this time but he does see a book on her nightstand: _1984_. He latches on to it, stores it in the part of his brain that stores Sarah facts.

Sarah Facts:

Sarah doesn't like olives

Sarah wants children

Sarah reads _1984_… is maybe a fan of classic literature and epic, forbidden love

"What's up, Chuck?"

He spins to see her. She's in her work uniform and tying her hair back.

"First off, I never meant to hit you."

She sighs. "Chuck, I provoked you."

"I don't care. I should have never done that, even if it was a flash. I'm so sorry, Sarah. I actually kind of apologized to you in a dream I had—that's how badly I want you to know that I'm sorry."

This mention of his dream seems to get to her and she smiles, just a little bit. "Ok," she says. "I accept your apology."

His eyes light up and a grin slowly goes wide on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says, still smiling. "Of course."

He exhales. He is relieved.

"Good, great! Thank you. Ok, second apology of the day: I'm sorry I yelled at you at the beach. When I said that you were too afraid to change I was just… it was a heat-of-the-moment sort of thing. I didn't mean it."

"No?"

"No, of course not. We were both upset about what happened, and about Bryce, and you have to understand that I had just downloaded this new thing into my head and it was a very confusing time for me and I can't be held accountable for anything I said. Please. Forgive me."

He watches her carefully to see if she's with him on this. Even if what was said can't be taken back he hopes that she sees how sorry he is. More than anything he just wants her to be happy again. And, a little more selfishly, for her to not be angry with him anymore.

But. She still seems on the fence. He takes this opportunity to go over to her, and he takes it as a good sign that she lets him. "Remember the motel?"

She nods. Of course she does. How could she forget?

Chuck is so close to her now, close enough to touch foreheads. "You were happy then, right?"

She nods. He's close enough to fix a loose strand behind her ear.

"Every time you're mad at me I want you to think of that morning in the hotel. Back when you liked me."

She is smiling one of her tiny smiles again and it's when she looks him in the eye that he knows he's got her, and when she looks him in the lips, her own slightly parted, that he knows she wants to be kissed.

Knowing when a girl wants to be kissed-- and by him, no less—is one of the greatest pieces of information a guy can have. And he doesn't even need the intersect to tell him that.

So he kisses her.

When he stops-- reluctantly (because that will always be reluctant)-- she is smiling and touching the side of his face. "You didn't shave," she says.

She doesn't say it like she minds the stubble, more like she appreciates it as a thoughtful gesture. She runs her hand across his jaw, chin and he knows that she likes the way the scruff feels. He digs his cheek into her palm the way a cat would into his master's.

\\\

When Chuck wakes up he's rubbing his chin raw. At first it is a wonderful feeling because though his body is awake his mind is still in Sarah's apartment, in the dream, and he thinks it's all Sarah's doing. But slowly he stops, comes to a realization. He looks around and sees that he's in his bedroom and he's disheartened and a little shocked.

This was his most vivid dream yet.

What actually happened went a lot different.

What actually happened was that Sarah swung open her door and he said, "Can we please talk?"

She let him in and Chuck saw a book on her nightstand: _1984_. He latched on to it, stored it in the part of his brain that stored Sarah facts.

Sarah Facts:

Sarah hates olives

Sarah once loved his once-best friend

Sarah reads _1984…_ is maybe obsessed with government control, sexual repression… misery

"What's up, Chuck?"

What actually happened was that he spun around to see her and blurted out, "Can we just forget the whole thing?"

Not much in the way of an apology but he just wanted to go back to normal. Back to their version of normal, anyway.

Sarah sighed like she didn't have time and Chuck figured she probably didn't because her fake job started in about half an hour and she was already ready to go. "And to what are you referring?" she had asked.

"I'm referring to me hitting you during training. I'm really sorry I did that."

"Ok, you're forgiven."

"Really? It's that easy?"

"Yes, Chuck, it's that easy."

What Chuck had thought was, _Say it like you mean it_. What he actually said was, "And I'm sorry for what happened before that, on the beach. To tell you the truth I can't even remember what we fought about it. But I'm still sorry about it."

He had hoped that she'd find his heart-on-his-sleeve approach, his puppy-dog eyes, his humility endearing. What actually happened was that her eyes narrowed and her forehead creased.

"What you said was that I was too afraid to change."

"Oh."

"And what we were fighting about was the fact that you downloaded a new intersect into your head for reasons you still can't explain."

The man with the puppy dog eyes felt very much like a runt with his tail between his legs.

"But it's ok, Chuck. I understand that you need a friend right now so you don't have to apologize. We were both out of our heads that night."

Friend. Any other word would've been better than just _friend_.

"I just don't want you to be mad at me anymore," he had said.

What actually happened was there was a bit of silence that had hung between them then. The sort of silence that occurred when a problem got resolved but a new one surfaced. A problem Chuck couldn't exactly pinpoint. But it was there, in the vast distance between them. Indeed, Chuck did not like having conversations with Sarah when she was across the room.

His instinct had been to say something, maybe give a little laugh at the end of it and push that dead silence away, but what actually happened was that Sarah, usually the quieter of the two, spoke up instead.

"Do you remember the motel?"

He nodded. Of course he did. How could he forget?

"I was happy then. Really happy."

"Sarah…"

He hadn't said anything else because he could see that she wanted to say more. She was struggling with it, looking down at the floor and avoiding his gave altogether. Finally she spoke.

"At the beach? You said that I was going with Bryce, on a new mission. But, I wasn't. Before Bryce died I let him know that I was going to stay."

What actually happened was that Chuck distinctly remembered his final moments with Bryce. (Deciding to download the new intersect; watching your friend die: it's not a moment easily forgotten.) One of the last things Bryce had ever said to him was, "She wasn't going to come."

Chuck realized all at once and all too late that all Sarah wanted to do was stay with him, maybe go back to Barstow and find a motel. And instead of having that epiphany right then, all Chuck had been able to think about in the seconds before he'd downloaded a super computer into his head was fighting Fulcrum and being a hero.

"Going on more missions, that's not what I wanted," Sarah went on. "I have no idea why I didn't tell you sooner… this is all my fault, so you don't need to apologize for anything. It was just a big misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Chuck nodded. "A misunderstanding."

That silence continued to linger and that small problem Chuck couldn't pinpoint was growing larger by the instant.

"Anyway, we should probably get to work."

Chuck nodded and the held the door open for her.

And that was what _actually_ happened.


	6. maze

_A/N: A big huge thank you for the reviews :) So nice to read! And thanks for sticking with this crazy fic (which is just about to get even crazier.) There's about two chapters left after this one so I'll be finishing it up soon. _

_Thanks again!_

_\\\_

Chuck fires once.

He flinches and weighs the gun in his hand as if noticing it for the first time.

"Concentrate!" Casey barks, and Chuck can hear him even through his gigantic earmuffs. "You can shoot someone's eye out with that!"

"Right. Sorry."

He and Casey are at an indoor shooting range where Chuck is taking part in another spy training session: How to Kill Paper People With Guns. It's fun. Except for the part where he has to try to kill paper people with his gun.

Chuck points the gun straight out, grips it with both hands, makes sure to keep his elbows straight (or is that a golfing technique?) and then shoots again. He squints through his yellow-tinted lenses to try and see if he hit his mark but the paper target is too far to tell.

"Aim for the heart!" Casey shouts.

"I'm trying!"

Sarah's isn't there. With no missions coming in and Chuck delegated to mostly training and studying, Team Bartowski has been taking it kind of slow, and so Sarah has the morning off. Chuck briefly wonders what she's doing with her day. He thinks that if Casey had the morning off he'd be at the shooting range anyway.

"Or the head!" Casey continues. "One shot between the eyes will get the job done!"

"Well that's a little cold-blooded, isn't it?"

With his own hand Casey points Chuck's gun back in the target's direction. "I said _concentrate_," he says through gritted teeth. Chuck hadn't even realized that he'd turned towards Casey to speak.

"Just flash and get this over with. The less time you have with a gun, the better."

Chuck agrees with this statement very much, and he actually makes an effort to flash this time, concentrating really hard and squeezing his eyes shut in the process. The only thing that comes is the sound of a bullet bouncing off something metal in the distance.

Casey wastes no time in taking Chuck's gun away.

He sighs and takes off his hearing protectors. "Sorry, Case. My sleeping's been a little off."

"Well, maybe if you spent less time playing video games at all hours of the night with that human garden gnome you call a friend—"

"Hey!"

"-- you wouldn't be a prime candidate for friendly fire."

"_Human garden gnome_? Really?"

"He's short, has a beard, and if you had a garden he'd spend the majority of his days standing in it."

Chuck considers this for a moment. Then, "Touché. But it's not that. Actually, I've been getting _too much_ sleep."

Casey grunts. "Gee, Chuck, I know what you're going through: I fought in three wars."

Chuck rolls his eyes and though Casey raises his gun to continue shooting Chuck doesn't take the hint. He commences with the conversation anyway. Casey's still wearing his own earmuffs but Chuck knows enough to know that the man has highly-trained skills of his own; lip reading and crazy-scary super-hearing among them. Just in case, Chuck shouts.

"I've been having these really vivid dreams! They feel real!" He's not sure why he's even talking to Casey about this, but he can't talk to Sarah, so Casey's his newest confidante by default. "I don't understand them at all but Sarah's in all of them!"

Casey stops shooting and gets the sort of look in his eye that Chuck understands to mean, _I am trying to shoot something and you are ruining all my fun. _Not to be confused with the _I am this close to killing you with my bare hands_ look, which is quite similar. He takes off his muffs, clearly meaning business.

"Listen, Numbskull, I get enough of you swooning for Walker in the flesh, I don't need to hear about the deluded fantasies you harbor for her while you sleep. Next time you have a wet dream roll up your sheets and hand them to your sister. She still does your laundry, right?"

"No, she doesn't. And ew. Anyway, they're not those kinds of dreams. In fact you were in one of them too."

"Ugh this is worse than I thought."

"Just for a second," Chuck counters quickly. "You were in this purple baseball uniform and you were looking through my window and you were watching me and Sarah make out and you called me a nerd so don't tell me you're not interested because clearly, if my dreams are any indication, you are."

"Really. A baseball uniform?"

"I know what I just said doesn't make any sense but my dreams are so vivid that—"

"What kind of baseball uniform?" Casey interrupts.

Chuck suddenly notices that his handler looks like he's interested in what he has to say, for once. He relishes this moment, if only for a second, because Casey takes a step forward and repeats his question. "The baseball uniform. Did it have any insignia?"

"Uh, yeah, it did. I think it said… St. Joseph's… Holy Ballers."

Casey takes a step back and the unusually quiet man becomes even more unusually quiet, if that's possible.

"Sorry for the terrible team name," Chuck tries to explain. "My subconscious has a mind of its own."

"How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"My senior year of High School I was granted a scholarship as the shortstop for the Holy Ballers. I turned it down to join the armed forces."

"You turned down a scholarship?"

"Serving one's country honorably trumps playing baseball."

"I didn't know you played. You know, Awesome plays baseball too. Granted, he's more of a football guy but he—"

"Chuck, I never told you I played baseball."

"Wait, what?"

"How long have you been having these dreams?"

"Not too long. I guess since I got the…"

"New intersect," Casey finishes for him.

"Yeah…" Chuck is a little late to the party but he finally sees what Casey's getting at.

"You think _the intersect_ is messing with my _dreams_?"

"Don't sound so shocked. We don't know what this thing is capable of yet. Strange dreams may be a side effect."

"Like drowsiness and upset stomach?"

"What other intel have you obtained?"

Chuck racks his brain. He had no clue that that some of the things he was dreaming about could actually be products of the intersect. "Um," he says, "in that same dream Sarah told me that she broke two ribs fighting Mongolian assassins. It happened in 2005, I think."

"That's true."

"How do you know?"

"I read all the available literature on my partners. That's in her file."

This is all a little much for Chuck to wrap his brain around at the moment. All he can muster is a dumbfounded look on his face as the realization dawns on him. "Oh my God, the intersect has invaded my dreams."

Casey clears their station, putting the safety on their guns and grabbing everything he can, heading for the door.

"Where are we going?" Chuck asks.

"Back to Castle. I'm giving you pictures of every terrorist on the NSA's most wanted list. And then I'm ordering you to sleep."

\\\

In his dream he is in a maze and he knows exactly what he's supposed to be searching for.

Casey had given him a stack of photos to look through but his subconscious mind is only interested in one person. And he can feel that she's close.

"Sarah?" he calls out. Looking around Chuck only sees endless walls and hallways. "A little help here! I'm kinda lost!"

At last, he hears her. "You're lost because you know so little. You need the right information."

"Ok then," Chuck says, taking tentative steps down one hallway. "Let's start with the basics. Your name's not really Jenny, is it?"

In the distance he sees her and she shakes her head before disappearing behind a turn.

Chuck runs toward her, makes the same turn but is nearly knocked down by one of the Big Bad Men in Casey's terrorist photos. Not the most pleasant-looking person to be bumping into. And although he should probably stick around and have a chat with him, Chuck has a more important mission at hand.

Though he'd rather be having this conversation with Sarah in real life, he is determined to find out her real name. He's not sure why it's so important to him, just that it is, and that it's the one mystery about her that he feels will unlock all the others.

"Is it Marion?" he shouts.

At the next turn: Ellie, a pitiful look on her face. "I thought you knew her better than that," she says.

Chuck shrugs apologetically but doesn't stop moving, sprinting through the maze as fast as his legs can take him. "Sidney?" he says.

More silence echoes as he continues to search. "Carrie?"

Morgan obliviously blocks one of the hallways. "Hey Buddy, why the horror movie motif?" Chuck passes him and keeps going, but he doesn't find Sarah anywhere. He's about to give up when Bryce appears. "You're not asking the right questions," he tells him.

Chuck thinks he understands. Even in his dream he's lucid enough to wonder if what he's doing is right. What he's essentially doing is digging up her file, trying to procure personal information about her. He's already abusing a power he just discovered he has. And yet, in his dream, he can't stop himself. When he finally reaches her in the labyrinth, he knows what question to ask.

"Sarah," he says. "What's your name?"

And he gets his answer.


	7. Buddies

A big thank you to those who read and reviewed the last chap. And an even bigger thank you in advance if you choose to stick with this fic after this chap. It's a weird one! But weird can be fun sometimes, yes? Yes! Alright, on with the chapter:

\\\

_Sarah._

He watches her through the store window and it's not completely unstalker-like, so, admittedly, even he's a little creeped out with himself. What he should do is walk inside and strike up a conversation, maybe order a yogurt while he's at it. And yet he's outside like a kid too scared to talk to his crush. A scenario Chuck knows all too well.

The truth is he's scared. He did something very wrong by snooping into Sarah's files, even if it was in a dream state. Her name is a secret that he knows about her now, and the pangs of guilt that accompany this forbidden knowledge alerts him to just how wrong it was to recover it. But it's not his fault that he snooped. Not consciously, at least.

The truth is all he wants to do is tell her is that he loves her. Staring at her now, it's all he can think about.

Ok, it's decided. He's going to go in there, tell her he loves her, and then maybe order a yogurt.

But before he can go from stalker to full blown lover boy Sarah looks up and catches his eyes. Chuck feels like an idiot for being caught staring. The only thing that would make him look more pathetic is being caught staring _and_ drooling. He checks his mouth to make sure there isn't any moisture. Thankfully, no drool.

Sarah smiles and waves him over. He takes this as a good sign. He walks through the door and the little bell chimes above him like an encouraging song. Sarah hands a customer his change and then Chuck has her full attention. He mentally plans out the itinerary for this visit. One 'I love you' and a yogurt and then he'll be on his way.

"Hey," she says.

And if things are still in a weird place between them Chuck can't tell by the way she's smiling at him.

"Hey," he reciprocates. _I know your name!_ he thinks.

"So tomorrow it's my turn with you at the shooting range."

"Yay. Great. Fun," he rattles off nervously. "Hey, you didn't speak to Casey by any chance, did you? Since last night, I mean."

"No." She says it slowly and her eyebrows settle into two inquisitive lines. "Why?"

"No reason." _Because I know your name! _

But Chuck doesn't know how to lie and, actually, his lying is so bad that it tips Sarah off immediately. She puts down the rag with which she was about to clean the countertop and fixes Chuck with a stare. "Chuck, is there something I need to know?"

_Yes!_ His brain screams, _I know your name! The intersect is feeding me top secret information through my dreams and in one of those dreams I asked you what your name was and you told it to me and now I know it and it feels like this big secret because it's something that you don't want me to know and I know it anyway and I feel so guilty so please don't be mad at me and we'll forget this whole thing ever happened. Ok?_

"I love you."

Sometimes his brain and his mouth don't work together. It's the only way he knows how to explain that little outburst. "Also, can I get a medium raspberry melon explosion?"

'I love you' and a yogurt. He needs to start making better plans.

\\\

It's nighttime and Chuck's sitting in a lawn chair in his old courtyard. He takes a gulp from his bottle of beer and turns to his companion sitting in the lawn chair next to him. It's something Chuck always wanted to do with him but just never got the chance. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for inviting me," Bryce replies. He and Chuck clink their beer bottles together in silence. "But what's with all the dancing terrorists?"

The terrorists from Casey's NSA's most wanted super list have finally made it into one of Chuck's dreams, and it seems that his subconscious mind wanted them dancing in tutus. He can't fathom why but it does make them a heck of a lot more entertaining. Chuck and Bryce sit pleasantly enthralled as the terrorists dance around the water fountain.

"I'm supposed to be looking for clues, I guess," Chuck says. "About where they might be hiding or how we might go about catching them. I don't really know how it works."

"Oh," Bryce says. Pointing, he adds, "And what about her?"

Sarah has found her way into this dream too. She's dancing, but not in a tutu. Chuck would never demean her like that by picturing her in a tutu. She's in a grass skirt instead.

"I have this thing for hula girls," Chuck admits sheepishly. "I used to have this little dancing hula—"

"Figurine. You kept it on your desk. I know, Chuck. We were roommates once, remember?"

"Right. Sorry."

Hula-dancing-Sarah makes her way between the two men, her hips swaying sensually from side to side. She touches them both on the shoulder as she passes them, smiling all the while.

"I told her I loved her," Chuck says.

"Good for you. How did it go?"

"She made me a yogurt and then I had to go back to the Buy More because my break was over."

"She didn't say anything back?"

"No. not a thing."

Bryce mirrors Chuck's frown. "She just needs some time. Sarah's not big on expressing her feelings. But I'm sure she loves you too." Chuck looks at him, wanting to believe him. "I'm sure she loves you," Bryce says again, hoping Chuck believes him too.

"Did she ever tell you she loved you?"

Bryce shakes his head. "I don't know if she's ever told _anyone_." And even though chuck knows that Bryce is just a figment of his imagination, something tells him this is true.

"Hey Chuck, quick question," Bryce says. "Why am I here?"

The pleasant disposition that had befallen Chuck through the dream is gone as he turns to Bryce in confusion. "Huh?"

"Why are you so obsessed with me?"

"Again, huh?"

"You haven't stopped thinking about me ever since I died. In fact, I think I've popped up in your thoughts at least once in every dream you've had since the new intersect. I'm dead. I shouldn't matter that much anymore."

"Bryce, come on," Chuck says, shooting him down. "Drink your beer."

"When you found out her name it wasn't just because you wanted to know something real about her--"

"Yes it was."

"--It was because you wanted to find out something that even _I_ didn't know about her. Isnt that what it was really about? Because I got so much of her and in three years of knowing her you've got almost nothing. It isn't fair, but you've got to get over it, Chuck. You've got to stop obsessing about me."

"I'm not _obsessed_ with you," Chuck assures him, chuckling like the mere notion is hilariously ludicrous. "I just want to be you." His laughing trails off, replaced by the sour taste of unwanted epiphany. He'd never admitted that to himself. And hearing it out loud doesn't make it any better.

Bryce has got an _I knew it_ look on his face and that doesn't help matters either. "Well stop," he says. "You already are me."

"Huh?"

"You were uploaded with data that was meant for my brain, not yours. So guess what? You've taken over the throne. You wanted to be a big bad spy and now you've got the resources to do that. Congratulations."

"But I can't do the things you do. I can't even shoot a gun."

"It's a switch you have to turn on, Chuck. You think just because you pick up a gun you're a spy? Or a hunter? Or a killer? It doesn't work like that. Someone who picks up a paintbrush isn't automatically a painter. It's a mindset. This new intersect lets you be whatever you need to be. You just have to know how to use it."

"But… I have no clue how to use it."

"Ok, you know how sometimes you'll be asleep and dream that you're falling suddenly and you physically react to it? You know, you'll twitch or something? I once read somewhere that your body's already decided to have that involuntary twitch and that your brain provides this falling dream, like a cushion. If you fall for it—if you act like a spy—the intersect will provide that cushion for you.

"Oh," Chuck says, not sure he understands. "Turn on a switch and become a spy?"

Bryce nods and then leans over the side of his chair and Chuck takes it as a cue to listen carefully to what comes next, because what comes next is important. "But that's not what Sarah wants."

Now Chuck's more confused than ever. The only reason he ever wanted to be a spy at all was for Sarah. She wants the hero. Just like she wanted Bryce.

"How can you even say that? You were a spy and Sarah loved you. You were the kind of man she wanted."

"That was a long time ago. Things have changed. You're the kind of man she wants now."

"So now you're saying I shouldn't be a spy. I don't get you."

"I'm saying you need to find the balance. Sarah doesn't want the Hero- you were always wrong about that. But now that you're a spy you're her equal. That means something, Chuck," he says emphatically. "I guess the most important thing you have to ask yourself is, in terms of your relationship with Sarah, what's the biggest difference between being an asset and being a spy? What kind of license does that give you?"

License? Chuck tries to wrap his mind around what Bryce is trying to tell him, but something tells him that he needs to be awake to figure this whole thing out. The terrorists in tutus are too distracting. And so is Hula-dancing-Sarah. She winks at him and he can't help but blush.

"I think I need to wake up now," he tells Bryce. "I have an appointment with Sarah I have to get to. We're going to shoot paper people with guns. Can I ask you a personal question before I go?"

"Shoot."

"Did you and Sarah do it a lot?"

Bryce grins and takes another swig from his bottle. "Yep."

"Really?"

"Are you kidding me? All the time."

"Wait, this is my subconscious talking through you. You're only saying that because that's what I _think_."

"Ok then, ask me again."

"Did you and Sarah do it a lot?"

"Never."

"Ever get past first base?"

"She let me touch her boob once."

Chuck thinks about this. He's satisfied with the answer. "Ok."

He knows he's been having a whole conversation with, essentially, himself, since Bryce is very much dead and this is very much a dream. But still, he's glad for this time they had together."It was nice talking to you, Bryce. I miss this."

"Me too." Bryce smiles. "Good luck, Chuck."

\\\


	8. Guns

The final chapter! It's been very fun writing this story, and hearing your feedback. And can I just say that it made me so happy to see that people actually enjoyed the last chap? As one of the few people who likes Bryce I was a little apprehensive about filling a whole chapter with mostly him. So, thanks for reading and reviewing! But I was missing Sarah, so I hope you have your fill of her here.

So thanks for reading, guys! Stayed tuned for the next fic that I'm working on: an entry for Mikki13's Prepare to Be Heart Warmed holiday fic challenge. It's gonna be crazy fun, so look out!

\\\

Before Chuck picks up the gun he lets his mind go to that place where he's a spy and he can do anything. Well, he tries to find that place. He knows it exists, at least.

Ever since he woke up he's been thinking about his dream with Bryce and what it all meant. What he meant by turning the switch on, what he meant with the license being a spy gave him. Chuck thinks he's finally figured it all out. And he's happy he has. He points the gun straight out before him and shoots; once, twice-- until there aren't any bullets left. The loud bangs reverberate off the walls of the empty shooting range.

When he's done he lets his arm fall to the side and checks out his results. He smiles. "By George, I think he's g—" he stops talking to himself when he hears someone approaching from down the room. He knows who it is before he even turns to look at her.

"You're here early," she says.

"Guess I just wanted to get a head start on the day's work."

"You know you're not supposed to be left unsupervised with guns. Not yet, anyway."

Casey had implemented the rule after last time. Chuck can't say he blames him.

"I know," Chuck says. "I'm sorry about that, it's just…shooting stuff is kind of addictive." He transfers his gun from hand to hand like it's a hacky sack, then stops abruptly to pose with it. "Don't I look like James Bond with this thing? Granted, a more ruggedly handsome version but..." He stops because of Sarah's reaction. She stares like she didn't hear him right, but just as quickly her expression changes again and a tiny sound that Chuck can't quite interpret escapes her lips. It's something like an ironic snort.

"What, you don't think so?" he asks. "I'm more like Farrah Fawcett in Charlie's Angels, aren't I? I knew it. I wouldn't mind the comparison but I just don't think I can pull off the feathered look."

Sarah smirks, appreciating his humor if not quite busting at the seams for it. She's too distracted. "That's something Bryce used to say."

It's then Chuck realizes the look on her face is of someone entranced by recollection. "The Farrah Fawcett thing?" he asks.

"No, the James Bond thing. Except without the 'ruggedly handsome' part." And maybe it's because Chuck isn't saying anything that Sarah decides to expand on that. "It's funny, actually; the first time I met him was at a shooting range. He asked me if I thought he looked like James Bond. And then he mentioned you."

"He what?"

"He said he had a friend at school who would've called him the 'James Bond of Connecticut.' Now that I think about it, that must've been you, right? "

Chuck was just dreaming about Bryce and now Sarah's bringing him up and is this a sign from his dead friend or just all one big coincidence? "You met him at a shooting range? Were you training together?"

Sarah's still distracted, still thinking, and when she smiles Chuck's pretty sure she's smiling at the memory. "Actually, I was training _him_."

_Just like this_, Chuck thinks. "Sarah, can I ask you a question? Would you say Bryce and I are anything alike?"

"Aside from your mutual affinity for video games and made-up sci-fi languages? No. Not really."

Chuck nods. "That's what I thought."

While once he would have wished her answer would be different, now he's happy with what it is. He isn't like Bryce, and that's just fine. Though, he is amused by the fact that there was another man in Sarah's life who also liked the nerdier things in life. And that, at least, gives him some hope.

He turns his back to her to tend to his gun, pressing the button on the grip that releases the magazine so he can proceed to reload. It's when she's very close to him-- and he can feel her eyes on him-- that he remembers his random love confession to her the day before. The silence and the tension and the proximity makes him distinctly aware of just how awkward he's made things for himself now. Just as he's expecting her to bring it up she asks something else.

"Why do I have to hear from Casey that you're having dreams about me?"

He freezes and mentally winces. "Oh," he says, feigning innocence as he turns to face her. "About that, I don't know what you heard but they're not the kind of dreams you're thinking of. I just told Casey because I couldn't go to you, for obvious reasons. If there's one thing I learned in 10th grade it's that you don't go over to the hottest girl in school and tell her you've been dreaming about her."

Sarah smiles and even blushes, and it makes Chuck's heart skip with pleasure.

"Well Casey seems to be convinced that you're getting information from the intersect while you sleep."

"'Seems to be convinced'?" Chuck repeats. "You don't think it's possible?"

"Do you?" Sarah asks. "How are you so sure the info you're getting is accurate? Your dreams could be just that: dreams."

"I'm sure."

"How?"

He supposes this is as good a time as any to come out with it. Chuck sighs and scratches the back of his head. Almost timidly he asks, "If I called you Margaret, would that make any difference?"

Sarah is silent, but clearly taken aback. He can see it all on her face. She's never looked more exposed, more _naked, _than she does at that moment. Her cheeks burn red and even her posture changes, if only slightly. It's like someone who'd been standing on their tippy toes their whole life just, suddenly, stumbled.

And even though she's standing right in front of him Chuck still has the urge to help her up.

Her voice is small when she says, "You got that from a dream?"

He wants to help her up so he talks, fills the air with some words. "I'd love to say it was just some random dream but I'm pretty sure I willed myself to have it, if you can even do that. I don't know why, I just… I really needed to know that part of you."

He waits for her to say something, suddenly acutely aware that they are in a large, empty room full of guns. To say he is scared of ticking off a very deadly agent is an understatement.

"It's Maggie. Nobody ever called me Margaret. I don't think that's something you'll find in any file."

_Maggie_. "I'm still going to call you Sarah if that's okay."

"I can't believe you found out my name."

"I know. I'm sorry. I should have never snooped into your files like that."

"No, I'm sorry you found out from a dream and not from me."

Not exactly what he was expecting. "Come again?"

"I should have been the one to tell you."

"Really? If I'd asked you for your name you would've just told me, straight out?"

The long pause that follows is answer enough for him. Though, to her credit, Sarah looks as though she's trying hard to find the right words to respond with. "Do you really think that finding out my name would tell you anything real about me?" she asks. "Because those are just details. I can give you my name, my shoe size, my blood type, but none of that tells you who I am. I was hoping that… Well, I'd hope you know that when I'm with you… that that's me. That's the real me."

Chuck understands what she's saying, or what she's trying to relay, but he can't say he fully believes it. "Except for when your job dictates your emotions." If she's been real with him he's only seen it in glimpses.

"That isn't fair. You know there's a line we can't cross. My most important mission is to protect you."

Chuck knows that if it wasn't for her job and her working relationship with him and her sworn duty to protect him she'd let him know how she really felt about him. He knows because of that night when Casey locked them in castle. All she said was "Two bed?" and it had been all she needed to say. All he'd ever wanted to hear.

"It isn't your job to protect me anymore," he states assuredly. "I can protect myself."

"No, Chuck, you can't," she says, looking genuinely sad at the fact. "Not until you can control your flashes."

The only way Chuck knows how to answer that one is by turning to his gun. As Bryce told Chuck in his dream, if he does his part his brain will do the rest. He shoves the new magazine into its well, cocks back the slide and aims the gun at a new paper target, next to the one he'd already been practicing on. "What should I aim for?" he asks, standing sideways and ready to shoot, one-handed.

"Chuck—"

"The head?" He shoots. "The heart?" He shoots. "The appendix?" He shoots. "The neck," he finally decides. He lets out a round of bullets until he hopes he's proved his point.

When he's done Chuck presses a button on the post that zooms the target forward. He unhooks the paper and presents it to Sarah, who takes it, clearly curious to see his handiwork. The sheet is riddled with bullet holes, one between the assailant 's eyes, one where his heart would be, one on his lower right abdomen, and the rest in a neat line across his throat. After examining the sheet for a few more moments Sarah looks up at him. "Did you just flash?"

"I guess so," Chuck says. "Cuz otherwise that'd be pretty hard to explain.

"But how did..?"

"I've only really tried my skills out with a gun but I think I figured out how to work this thing," he says, pointing to his head. "Had some help from a friend in a dream."

Sarah raises her eyebrows, impressed, and hands the target back to Chuck. "So now you're a spy."

He wants to say yes but Bryce's voice rings in his head as he distinctly remembers one important part of his dream with him. "_That's not what she wants_."

"I'm Chuck," he says. He is a spy, but he has to make her understand that he's still the same guy. "Just Chuck. But I can handle myself now."

She takes it in and Chuck is suddenly uncomfortable by how she's looking at him. It's like she's examining him, trying to see if he's right.

"Sarah, now that you don't have to protect me we're essentially equals, right?" He's testing the waters here because he doesn't know how this is going to go over but he has Bryce's words in mind. Off her look, he continues, "What I'm getting at is that this gives us license to be together. Your feelings about me won't compromise the missions anymore."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the feelings you're so worried about? The ones you think will get in the way of you protecting me? They're already there." He says it so assuredly and she doesn't even try to deny his claim.

Chuck moves closer to her. The big room full of guns makes him feel like a real spy, and that, in turn, gives him the confidence to say what he wants to say. So he moves close enough to whisper. "We can deny ourselves a relationship but I still know how you feel about me. And you know how I feel about you. If you want, I can go without kissing you," he says, his mouth close to her ear, her lips; and maybe it's because he's still holding his gun that he feels confident enough to say, "I can go without sleeping with you. But those feelings that will affect our judgment—that already are—they're not just going to go away."

He'd say more, explain everything he's thinking, everything he's wanted to tell her, but he's standing so close to her that his mind is reeling. The scent of her hair, her skin, consumes him, and he feels the air between them like static. He steps back to get himself together and sees that Sarah eyes are closed. She quickly opens them when she doesn't feel his face next to hers.

But without preamble she moves closer to him this time, as if instinctively, wanting to keep the space between them as minimal as possible. "Can you really go without kissing me?" she asks, searching his eyes. There is no hint of flirtation in her voice; just a straight question that demands a straight answer. "And sleeping with me?" Her eyes fall to his lips when she asks that. And Chuck understands that to mean only one thing.

They kiss each other like they did the first time, only the roles are reversed and Chuck is the one to jump into action first. He cradles her jaw, her head, and the difference between this kiss and all the others is that there is no first few moments of surprise. This kiss feels like it was coming for a while.

But he still has to answer her question. He pulls back to look into her eyes. They are dizzy. "No," he says.

\\\

This is not a dream:

Chuck's awake in bed and Sarah's in the room too, but she's standing by the window, looking out.

He watches her figure, her naked back, and though he's not touching it he can feel her skin. She is soft. The sensation overwhelms him and he needs to touch her in the flesh, to make sure all this is real. He comes to stand behind her, his arms snaking around her stomach. Her form nestles into his. He has never felt more content.

When he told her he loved her he didn't say it because he wanted to hear it back. He said it because she needed to hear it. And he needed to tell her. He's glad he did.

"Did you have a dream about me?"she asks him.

"Always."

This is not a dream and Chuck never wants to fall asleep.

\\\


End file.
